Fallout 3: A Raid To End All Raids
by dopesmokr
Summary: A group of raiders, led by an ageing veteran, set out to attack a trade caravan en route from Cantebury Commons only to find more than they bargained for... contains violence and strong language
1. The job was simple

~ A RAID TO END ALL RAIDS ~

_I lay on my back staring up at the night sky, an inscrutiable presence looming over me, as formless as the air itself, but I felt its vengeful gaze upon me. I tugged at my arm trying to pull myself free, but it was no use. My hand was impaled to the rock with a six inch railway spike, the striking pain coursing up through my veins. I leaned over with my free arm to pull it out but something cold, hard and solid dug under my collar bone, pressing my shoulders back against the ground. I kicked wildly and flailed about in the air with my free hand trying to grab hold of whatever was there when another metal spike shot through flesh and muscle pinning my upper arm to the ground the other side of me. I screamed in agony, yelling obsceneties at the top of my lungs in a fit of anger and blind frustration "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU!!!" …_

CHAPTER ONE

The Job Was Simple...

We were up on a steep sloping section of what used to be the old highway running south towards the city. From this elevation we had a complete panorama. I stepped precariously over a wide gap in the road, massive cracks running away at either side, glancing downwards 40 feet to the ground. To the south the whole structure had collapsed in huge segments and snaked along the ground disappearing over a crest. To the North the road rose further upwards, its tall reinforced girders still holding strong after all these years and surprisingly most of the freeway was still intact as it ran further into the distance. But one by one the sections were coming down and it was only a matter of time before the whole damn thing was reduced to rubble - preferably not while we were still on it.

* * *

_"Boss, what the hell is this? There are four of us and your only giving me ammo for two, this won't work..." _

_He leapt towards me, the cold steel of a blade pressed against my throat as he gripped a fistful of hair at the back of my head, his eyes piercing the back of my skull..._

_"Sure it will you stupid old bastard! It'll work if I say it'll work, so don't give me that half-assed attitude like you can't do. Its stinks! What the hell use are you if you can't kill a couple of no good caravan traders anyway? When an animal gets too old to work you put a bullet through its head, maybe that's the way your heading. You want more ammo?? THEN GET IT OFF THAT FUCKING CARAVAN!! And don't bother coming back unless you got something useful for me!"_

_I walked out in silent disgust as I left him ranting to himself. The Boss was a fixated with some kind of mining operation he was running down at some school, and it was swallowing all our resources. He wouldn't give me any more details, said it was "top secret", but I'd heard him muttering to himself something about digging into one of those vaults. The kid was damn stupid if you asked me, ain't no one getting into one of those things. In truth he was becoming increasingly agitated and squandering precious ammo and manpower on a hopeless cause. And now he was sending me out to attack some caravans because we were getting desperate for supplies. _

* * *

Bullseye stared to the south-east, concentrating through the scope of his .308 caliber rifle towards the mass of rocky cliffs about 15k off in the distance - Cantebury Commons.

"Any movement?" I asked.

"Hang on a second there Mr. G, I think I see someone... 'ello little fella...come to daddy..." he mumbled to himself.

I knew he couldn't see shit. The sight on that rifle was busted to hell, there was no way anyone could see through it. "bang... bang..." He made a couple of mock shooting sounds as he imagined a direct hit. The bolt didn't work either. I kept trying to tell him but any time someone mentioned it he turned psycho. The thing was salvageable but he wouldn't let anyone else near it to be repaired. The only reason he carried it around was because he thought it looked cool, and god help anyone who came between him and his beloved rifle lest they be accused of trying to steal it and get their balls nailed to a dartboard. Bullseye was a proper psycho alright, and he didn't get his name because he was a crack shot either. He got it because he was a damn terrible shot, couldn't hit a Brahmin if he was staring it in the face - both of them, was kinda like a running joke around here. He didn't get the joke though, and it's probably just as well.

The job was simple. Stake out the MSR (main supply route) leading out of Cantebury Commons and into the wasteland. Hit the first caravan to come through and then get hell out of here with as much loot as we could carry. Me and Bullseye waited up here on the bridge where we'd set up a makeshift shelter from some corrugated iron sheets, a couple rotten mattresses lay inside with some empty ammo boxes, and some empty suitcases to carry the loot. Big Toe Joe and Randy Ray waited down on the ground hidden behind a rocky outcrop. We'd keep our eye out for the target and as soon as the caravan was under the freeway I'd fire the first shot. That would be the signal for Randy and Joe to come out of their position and open fire on the caravan. From our vantage point on the bridge we could keep watch for any follow up attack and provide fire support if necessary. It was the perfect ambush - textbook style. The only problem was our lack of firepower. We had 2 ineffective assault rifles, 1 chinese pistol, and a busted sniper rifle between us. And not enough ammo to hold a sustained fire fight. But the guys were eager for a scrap and I knew they'd rip anyone apart with their bare hands if need be.

* * *

_The small tin shack was dark and stale inside, thick cigarette smoke clung to the air and the smell of burning flesh filled my nostrils as I stubbed another red hot cherry into his face and he let out a feeble groan. "How can you be certain that the caravans still take the same route?"_

_"Because they know that route, its familiar to them, and they always stick to the familiar... they already mapped it out..and they travel at night..always at night.. please.. I'll tell you anything!" His eyes pleaded with mine like a frightened dog. "Uncle Roe is the one who organises them, that's why they all meet there. And since they've been carrying more equipment than usual they've been travelling more often, they pass through nearly every-"_

_"How much more than usual? Just what the hell have they got up there?" I tightened my grip on the Wastelander's throat._

_"Much more! ...word is that a some private contractor has been investing in their stock, they have too much to carry in one go, and with more stock to sell they make 3 times as many -"_

_"Who's the contractor?"_

_"I don't know... I swear!" My fist made contact with the side of his skull as I repeatedly punched him in the side of the head, his face beginning to bruise and swell. I never felt sorry for these damn Wastelanders. Like rodents scurrying through the wastes, scavenging in ruins, picking at scraps. If they were smart they'd make something of themselves, not spend their whole lives digging in the dirt. "okay.. okay.. please.. he's just some lone wanderer, nobody knows. They say he came from one of the vaults. He regularly meets with the caravans at the Commons but that's all I know.. I don't know who he is..."_

_"And how many guards will be escorting the goods?" _

_"One!"_

_"Surely with more caps to spend they can afford to hire more guards, they'll want to protect the merchandise."_

_"But they don't, they only use one guard! More guards means more mouths to feed, it only slows them down. They travel as light as possible, bigger numbers only attracts more attention, they say its safer with 1 guard, less complicated, that's just what they say.."_

_"He's lying!" shouted Big Toe, "I'll get him to tell the fucking truth, lemme 'ave a go you soft old git! I'll get him to spill the beans!"_

_"Did you hear that, my friend wants to tear you into tiny pieces...", I pulled the wastelanders face up towards me "...so you better not be lying."_

_"It's the truth I swear!!!"_

_His corpse slumped to the ground like a sack of shit, the hot barrel of the 9mm still smoking as blood spread across the floor beneath my feet. I'd put him out of his misery, out of pity more than anything. But he was the lucky one. His companion still tied to the chair had Big Toe Joe getting to work on him. His poor weak skeletal form was dotted with patches of red bloody mass, as Joe grabbed another handful of flesh from his torso and hacked away with the rusty lawnmower blade. Big Toe liked to skin his victims alive, and he was none too fussed about the tidiness of his work. His other favourite game was cutting off the toes of his victims and then watching them repeatedly stumble as they tried to run away - he sometimes kept the big toe as a souvenir. His latest project spat and gargled for breath as his lungs slowly filled with blood, and Big Toe laughed maniacally has he forced more of the flesh down his victims throat, stifling the screams... _

_There was something different about this new generation, an evil streak that ran deep. Things were changing. Back in my day you simply killed to survive, violence was a necessity. But to these kids it was a sport. Violence was their only pleasure, and they lived for pleasure. I couldn't help but feel intimidated by their remorseless sadism. I suppose when violence becomes a way of life it's only inevitable that things begin to escalate out of control - another good reason to get out of this game before they lost patience and I became their next form of amusement. _

*** *** ***


	2. Early retirement

CHAPTER TWO 

Early Retirement

The light was fading fast now and I knew we could have a long night ahead of us. I shot a glance to Big Toe, "What the fuck are you waiting for? time to get into position. Wait for my signal, yeah?"

"screw you, Gerry!" He wandered down the slope, giving me an evil glare that made me feel uneasy.

"...I'll take that as a yes then." I muttered in discontent.

Back in the day I had been known as The Colonel, for my tactical awareness and torture methods. That, and my affinity for discipline. My military knowledge had been accumulated from some Chinese communist spec ops training manuals, and a few copies of Guns N Bullets. It wasn't much but it put me above the rest of them. I was respected back then, for my age and experience. But now I was just a joke. These kids had no respect for anyone and were beginning to take over the show. They especially hated being told what to do. I was now only only 36 years of age, but they called me Gerry - Geriatric. Disrespectful cunts.

To be honest I couldn't wait to get out. These weren't the ones I signed up with. Raiding used to be good. Like a gang, a proper brotherhood we fought and died for each other. But now with most of the old crew dead and this new generation beginning to assert themselves things were very different indeed. They were in it only for themselves, and they spent just as much time fighting amongst each other, no tolerance or self control. But it wouldn't be long now. My retirement was already planned out. Gather the supplies I needed for the journey and head out to my own little place in the country, my own private getaway. I'd had enough of all this shit. One last mission would set me up and once I disappeared I knew these psychos wouldn't come looking for me. No one would.

_We marched south through the barren wasteland, running parallel to the old highway which was about 2 ks to our left. A sharp glint of light in the distance to my right caught my attention. I stopped moving so I could steady my vision and concentrated on where the light had come from. Why did I get the distinct impression that we were being followed?_

_BULLSEYE: "Watcha lookin at, Gramps? There ain't nothing out there, man."_

_RANDY: "I told you, that sucka's going senile, seeing things that aren't there..."_

_BULLSEYE: "What about that vigilante from the vault?"_

_BIG TOE: "So?? What about him?? If that hapless sonuva bitch keeps pouring caps into the caravans at Cantebury Commons then we can just take it straight off the Brahmins back as soon as they leave. Its ideal, I tell ya. _

_"Thats right boys, looks like the Vault-Dweller will be paying our wages tonight" _

_They chuckled to themselves, and I too couldn't stop a grin from spreading across my face. I followed in behind them, watching as they laughed and joked about what they'd do if they found this so-called "vault-dweller". One last job, I reminded myself. A raid to end all raids. Then I'd be gone. Once we got hold of that loot these scumbags were good as dead. That caravan was my retirement fund - hard earned. And then there it was ahead of us in the distance - the half broken section where the highway sloped towards the ground, just like the wastelander had said. I'd chosen tonight as the first night to set the ambush as the moon would be its fullest. The ambient light should be enough to give us a good overview, even through the night time smog. Now all we had to do was get into position and wait 'til sundown. _

* * *

Next thing I knew Bullseye is gripping my shoulder and is shaking me - perhaps I dozed off.

BULLSEYE: "Wake up you old codger."

"What?"

BULLSEYE: "There's someone out there."

I strained my eyes to see through the darkness. A small lonely figure could be seen in the middle distance. I studied it closely for a couple of minutes and realised it was gradually getting closer, moving slowly towards us.

BULLSEYE: "Shall I shoot it?"

"No, you fool, you'll give away our position. It's just some dirty wastelander. Wait until he gets closer, Randy and Bullseye will take care of it."

BULLSEYE: "Whats that sound?"

"Eh-?"

I listened intently as I began to make out the dull tinkering of a bell. I crept across to the other side of the road and looked down over the side of the concrete wall. A Brahmin moved lazily towards the underneath of the girders flanked by two figures. Damn! The caravan had come from the west. Our ambush was facing the wrong way! Seconds later the echo of small arms penetrated the night as our boys on the ground opened up. Bullseye was still on the other side of the road looking east. "Keep an eye on that wastelander!" I shouted.

BULLSEYE: "He's gone."

"Gone where?"

BULLSEYE: "Dunno, man. One second he was there and then the next he was gone."

"Probably legged it as soon as he heard the gunfire. Stay here and keep a look out for anyone else that comes near, and shout if there's a problem!"

I leaned over the side to try and see what was going on down on the ground but they were directly underneath the road and out of sight. I headed quickly back along the road running down the slope towards the ground as Randy and Big Toe continued to exchange fire with the caravan and guard. I jumped down over the rubble, a mass of broken concrete blocks and twisted iron mesh where the road met the top of the hill, and as I hit the ground I turned northwards running down the slope in an effort to catch up with them as they chased down the fleeing traders. Bright yellow flashes lit up the night sky as they were given the good news, but from the sound of it more rounds were being returned. Our two must have chased the caravan some distance already because they were too far off for me to make them out in the darkness, most of the action was obscured by a rocky outcrop jutting out of the ground as I raced to try and catch up.

Suddenly a flicker of blue light silhouetted the outline of the rocks, a fraction of a second later followed by a cloud of glowing embers that danced into the night air. The firing had all but ceased by the time I got to the edge of the rocks and jumped over to find Big Toe lying on the floor beside a small pile of smouldering ash, lacerations across his stomach and chest, the glistening blood dripping down his front.

"WTF are you doing?!" I shouted angrily. He jumped to his feet, his head jerking from side to side, eyes darted in every direction as he scanned the wastes. I too looked around but there was nothing there just grass, rocks, and the occasional pile of rubble.

"Have you been at the scotch again? Get a goddamn grip man, there's nobody there! Where's the caravan??"

BIG TOE: "Oh he's there alright, I know he's there, he's playing with us, he wants to play, savouring each kill, one at a time..."

"Which way did the damn caravan go?!" But there was no response from him. His body still spun from side to side hastily scanning his surroundings, peering into the darkness for a sign, a trace of his opponent. His chest heaved, a wry smile, the shimmering blade gripped tightly in his fist was poised to strike and then he began lashing out at the air. This was ridiculous.

"Get after that fucking caravan!!!" I screamed.

He stood there muttering to himself, in a world of his own. As he continued to completely ignore me a red mist began to wash over. There was no time for stupid games. With teeth clenched I launched towards Big Toe with all my weight, pulling his weapon arm out to the side and hooking my legs around the back of his feet. As my momentum knocked him off balance we toppled to the ground, all my weight on top of him. It only took a couple of seconds for his mind to register what was happening but by then I already had his wrist held to the ground - he wasn't letting go of that knife for anything, but I certainly wouldn't give him the chance to use it. With my right fist I proceeded to beat his head to a pulp. His free arm flailing towards my face in a desperate effort to defend himself, he tried to grip my throat, finally resorting to clawing at my eyes but he became more dizzy and disorientated with the impact of each downward strike I gave him. Blood drenched his face as he moaned and groaned, and my unrelenting attack continued until he was semi-conscious. I knew he wasn't gonna be getting back up any time soon. I stood up and looked for the biggest rock I could find - even better, a large broken slab of concrete. Holding it high above me with both hands, then bringing it down as fast as I could against is face, the crack as his skull burst like a rotten mutfruit. If you want a job done properly you've got to do it yourself.

Now to get after that caravan and get the hell out of here. With the ground rising steeply along the west and nothing but open ground to the east, I knew the caravan could have only gone one way. And the only thing that provided a good amount of cover were the gigantic towering concrete girders that ran north following the path of the overhead freeway which was now 40 feet above me. The caravan must have retreated north using the girders. Taking the Chinese pistol from my waistband I began to set off at a quick pace but no sooner had I begun when the tell-tale rustling of air as of something falling suddenly followed by the sickening thwack! as a body hit the ground just 10 paces behind me. I turned to see the headless corpse of Bullseye lying on the floor, twisted and crumpled like a ragdoll. I looked up to the freeway. No movement. Joe was right, there was someone out there, and he wanted to play. Screw it, I could chase down the caravan later. This troublemaker was not going away, so first I'd deal with this asshole, finish it here and now.

I began running back the way I came until the ground began to slope up towards the freeway. I ran uphill, keeping my eye up on the road when something caught my foot and I tripped face first into the ground, a mouthful of dirt. Someone grabbed my back and tried to turn me around, I immediately span around with my pistol in the air and fired off a couple of shots. There was nothing there. The Chinese pistol was struck out of my grip and bounced to the ground. I reached out to grab it but a sharp piercing pain shot through the back of my hand.

* * *

I lay on my back staring up at the night sky, an inscrutable presence looming over me, as formless as the air itself, but I felt its vengeful gaze upon me. I tugged at my arm trying to pull myself free, but it was no use. My hand was impaled to the rock with a six inch railway spike, the striking pain coursing up through my veins. I leaned over with my free arm to pull it out but something cold, hard and solid dug under my collar bone, pressing my shoulders back against the ground. I kicked wildly and flailed about in the air with my free hand trying to grab hold of whatever was there when another metal spike shot through flesh and muscle pinning my upper arm to the ground the other side of me. I screamed in agony, yelling obscenities at the top of my lungs in a fit of anger and blind frustration. "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU!!!" …

...there was no response. The only sound was that of my laboured breathing, and painful groans as I lay there on my back waiting to die. I strained my eyes, the transparent shape shifting slightly, nothing more than a faint blur in the ambient moonlight. I couldn't see a thing, until the refracted light began to merge and the shape steadily darkened, a black shadow beginning to materialise. The tall dark figure stood in silence, silhouetted by the moon behind, watching as I struggled.

"Just do it already!!!!" I couldn't make out his (or her) appearance, features obscured in the darkness. Then he leaned closer. I still couldn't make out his face, but the bold numbers on his chest began to stand out... 101...

"It was you!?" The cold steel muzzle of a weapon rammed into my throat and the deafening crack of a gunshot rang in my head as a thick warm fluid ran down my chest. Vision narrowed, surroundings disappeared, and everything went black, deep black.


End file.
